Wilderness Survival for Girls

★★★
“Just because we’re girls, why do we have to be afraid all the time?”

Three teenage girls, Ruth (Brox), Deborah (Henning) and Kate (Humiston) head off to the remote mountain cabin owned by Kate’s parents for a weekend away. Initially, it’s an overdose of teenage drama bullshit in various flavours, as they drink, smoke weed, talk about sex and so on. But their soap-opera idyll is interrupted by the unexpected return of Ed (Morrison), who has been squatting in the cabin. The girls capture him, using the gun he left behind, with the intent of taking him down the mountain to the police the next day. But as the night goes on, the tensions between the three young women begin to fracture their friendship. There’s also the question of Ed: is he the innocent drifter he claims to be, or is there a connection to a long-buried trauma in Kate’s history?

If you’re hoping for definitive answers to at least some of the questions asked by the film, you’re going to come away disappointed. Ed is almost a MacGuffin in human form. He exists largely to propel the rest of the film forward, and act as a force which will cause the girls to reveal their true nature over the course of events. They are three very distinct personalities, to the point that I wondered if (and not for the first time) they were intended to represent the three aspects of the psyche: id, ego and super-ego. While my recent knowledge of teenage girls is strictly limited to parental experience – and thus not that recent – if there’s one thing I know, it’s that they tend to congregate with those like them. The disparate trio we get here wouldn’t last 10 minutes in high school before tearing themselves apart. Though I guess that is what happens for a good chunk of proceedings here.

You should probably be forgiven for having strong reactions to them: my instant dislike of Kate, turns out to be not unjustified, considering the ease with which she embraces her inner psychopath. Deborah, meanwhile, is a little too one-dimensional and obvious for my tastes, so it’s left to Ruth to do a lot of the dramatic heavy lifting. Brox does well enough in that task to keep the movie interesting; at least, once it gets past a rocky opening 20 minutes, and the thriller aspects come into play, more than the “teen angst” ones. I will confess to being somewhat disappointed by the ending, which seems contrived in such a way as to achieve closure, without any of the participants having to take personal responsibility for their actions. There are also any number of poor choices made by the trio, in order to reach that point. Though, against speaking from my parental experience, that’s probably about par for the teenage girl course. There was just about enough here to sustain its brisk 78 minute running-time, and going much longer would likely have been a mistake.

Dir: Eli B. Despres, Kim Roberts
Star: Jeanette Brox, Megan Henning, Ali Humiston, James Morrison

Wreck

★★
“If you go down to the woods today…”

I cannot, by any standard, call this a good movie. But was I amused? Yeah, guess I was. It really needs to embrace the idiocy of its central premise – a Bigfoot-like creature roaming the woodlands of suburban London (seems like Swindon, to be precise). This is apparently something to do with fracking, though quite how is never made clear. Into the creature’s territory arrives Sandy (Dean), a courier for unpleasant mob boss Mr. West (Loyd-Holmes). She and colleague Jimmy (Gilks) have been ordered to deliver a briefcase, with no doubt left as to the nasty fate which awaits should they fail. But their car crashes, leaving Jimmy dead and Sandy with her leg trapped under the vehicle. She then has to survive in her crippled state, fending off not just the monster, but also those who are keen to separate her from the case.

Let’s start with the creature, which is the finest you could come up with, given five quid and a roll of blue plush fabric. Really, it looks like a pissed-off refugee from Sesame Street. And that’s before it gets set on fire: the beast then looks more like an under-cooked turkey on the rampage. It is, of course, completely impossible to take seriously. So, despite some energetic gore, this doesn’t work at all as a horror film. As a survival thriller, it’s a bit better. I liked Dean’s performance, in little things like leaving her boss’s office and seeing a stripper performing – the look of “There, but for the grace of God, go I,” was palpable. 

The script, however, has too many flaws to succeed. For example, the way Sandy’s leg is immobile until necessary to the plot. At which point she not only frees herself, but is able to gambol about the forest like an armed gazelle. Or the way the monster spends much of the film defending Sandy, by attacking those who pose a threat to her. Chris said sardonically, “I think it’s in love with her”: this is a much better explanation than anything the film was able to provide. Sadly, no Swamp Thing-like romantic subplot ever arose, another example of the movie not going full speed ahead with the potential of its premise.

I was reminded of Hostile, which also had its heroine trapped after a car accident, menaced by monstrous creatures. While that film had plenty of weaknesses, it did at least put some effort into its scenario and monster; here, there’s precious little past “because Bigfoot.” However, at barely an hour long before the closing credit roll, it can’t be accused of particularly outstaying its welcome, and while you may largely remember this for the wrong reasons, you will remember it. As the saying goes, “If you watch only one British sasquatch movie this year… Wreck is probably going to be it.” I don’t exactly see this starting a trend that’ll prove me wrong.

Dir: Ben Patterson
Star: Gemma Harlow Dean, Ryan Gilks, Ben Loyd-Holmes, Tony Manders

Wheels Up, by Jeanine Kitchel

Literary rating: ★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆

The blurb I read, which got my attention, compared this to Queen of the South, and the debt is rather too obvious, with the novel falling short of the TV series. Layla Navarro has grown up as part of the Culiacan cartel in Mexico, and when its leader, her uncle “El Patrón” is captured by authorities, she has to step into the breach. However, there are a number of factions within the cartel who are unimpressed at the thought of being led by a woman, and have their own plans. When she discovers that one of the leading members, Don Guillermo Muñoz, is trafficking in young girls, she vows not to let it stand. But before she can take action, the plane she’s on is forced to land in the Mexican jungle. Along with Clay, her loyal Canadian pot-dealer ally, Layla has to avoid those seeking to finish the job, and strike back at Guillermo.

This isn’t the book’s fault, but I am unable to take anyone called “Guillermo” seriously, after watching What We Do in the Shadows. But even outside of that, I didn’t find this particularly effective. In contrast to Queen of the South, where Teresa had to claw her way up the entire ladder after losing her protection, Layla is already on the second-from-top rung. On that basis, her lack of resources seems pretty questionable, and the behaviour by the top tier of cartel members doesn’t seem to make much logical sense. For example, Layla seems way too hands-on, for someone supposedly in charge of operations. I doubt you’d see Pablo Escobar flying about with two tons of cocaine. Does no-one in the cartel delegate? Other issues included the clunky switching from Spanish to English, sometimes in the middle of sentences, and an ending which comes much too soon after Layla’s final confrontation with Guillermo, leaving an excess of loose ends. 

There are some positives. Kitchel does a good job of creating a sense of location; it appears she lives in the Yucatan peninsula where much of the activity takes place, and that aspect is nailed well enough. The problem is, I’m not sure she has ever come closer to a genuine cartel member than watching Queen of the South [Clay, in particular, seems suspiciously close to King George in the show]. Admittedly, neither have I. Well, my lawyer advises me to say so, anyway: I have… stories. However, I can still tell when a fictional character is acting as it feels they organically ought to, rather than in ways necessary for the plot, and there’s too much of the latter here. The resulting contrivance reaches its peak, when Layla turns out to be a top-notch mariachi singer, conveniently allow her to infiltrate the fiesta being attended by Guillermo. You will understand how hard I rolled my eyes at that revelation, effectively killing my interest in the series where it stood.

Author: Jeanine Kitchel
Publisher: Self-published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
1 of 2 in the Wheels Up Yucatan series.

Wait Until Dark

★★★★★
“The missing link between Psycho and Halloween?”

I’m quite serious about the above. In 1959, Hitchcock’s classic psycho-thriller, which gave an entire genre its name, showed a normal, self-confident woman falling prey to a psychotic serial killer, while John Carpenter’s Halloween, also now a classic, had its heroine fighting off menace Michael Myers. In between these two iconic movies, there is not much that is worth mentioning. Some final girls in Italian gialli maybe managed to survive, I guess – but there’s nothing in big screen thrillers that the average Joe or Jane would be able to name.  Except… This movie, in which blind heroine Susy Hendrix (Hepburn) is able to see through the ruses of three gangsters, fight them off, and even win in a final confrontation against evil-as-evil-can-be psycho Mr. Roat (a very young Arkin – gosh, this guy is now 86 at the time of writing).

The story: gangsters Talman (Crenna – best known as Rambo’s boss) and Carlino (Jack Weston) meet the gangster Roat, previously unknown to them, in an empty apartment. Roat is obviously working for – or may even be the boss of – a drug-smuggling ring. A doll that was used to smuggle drugs had been given, for later collection, by their colleague Lisa (Samantha Jones) to an innocent photographer Sam Hendrix (Zimbalist). Sam lives in this apartment, with his blind wife Suzy (Hepburn). As a quick inspection of the flat didn’t lead to the doll, Roat recruits, or more accurately. blackmails the two men into helping him.

As Sam is away for the week-end, the three men are going to put on a kind of play for Suzy. The intention is making her believe Sam is suspected of murder of (the already dead) Lisa, putting psychological pressure on Suzy to reveal the whereabouts of the doll. Fortunately, Suzy may be blind but she is not stupid. Very soon, she notices little things in the behaviour of the men that suggest something else is going on. With help from a young girl who lives in the flat above (Julie Herrod), her suspicions are confirmed and she suddenly realizes she is on her own against three men. The worst of whom is Roat, not just a normal criminal, but who enjoys killing – and from the get-go had planned to kill everyone off, once he gets what he wanted.

Oh, my… ! This movie was (and IMHO still is) a real nail-biter. Based on a play by Frederick Knott who also provided the basis for Hitchcock’s Dial M for Murder (1953), the movie very much breathes Hitchcock’s air and makes good use of the master’s famous “suspense” techniques, in which the audience knows more than the movie’s protagonist. By this method, very special tension arises, as the viewer constantly wonders what will happen when the hero/ine finds out, and how s/he will escape the situation. Of course, this works much better when you have real danger imperilling the central character, so you can worry about them, and get caught up in the web of “suspense”.

For this to work, you need a character the audience likes, feels for and identifies with. In a Hitchcock movie, that might be your average, normal guys like James Stewart or Cary Grant, or later, much less lucky female characters like Janet Leigh or Tippi Hedren. There is no doubt that Audrey Hepburn’s casting here was a stroke of genius; she was at that time probably the most likable and beloved Hollywood star. Having her play a blind woman even contributed to the sympathy and fear felt for her, in a movie that was a very unusual genre for Hepburn.

Until then, she had been seen mainly in sweet love stories like Roman Holiday (1953) and Sabrina (1954), or comedy-thrillers like Charade (1963) with Cary Grant, or How to Steal a million (1966) with Peter O’Toole. She had broken through as a serious actress with The Nun’s Story (1959) and Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961). She had even been cast by Hitchcock in an adaptation of Henry Cecil’s novel, No Bail for the Judge. But other commitments, qualms about a rape scene in the script, and a pregnancy combined to scupper her involvement and, eventually, the movie itself, which infuriated the master of suspense. So Hepburn had never previously played in a movie like this one.

Wait Until Dark is a dark, almost nihilistic thriller. This time, Hepburn’s heroine is all on her own, and if she isn’t able to put the puzzle pieces together and use her own wits, she will end up dead like poor Suzy in her cupboard. There is no Cary Grant or George Peppard coming to the heroine’s rescue. Even the not unsympathetic Crenna isn’t able to help. The gloves are truly off this time. It was kind of a gamble. There is a tradition of blind people in thrillers now; to name just some, Jennifer 8 (1992), Blink (1993), In Darkness (2018), or home-invasion thrillers e. g. Jodie Foster in Panic Room (2002). But these genres are relatively new, and not that often used then: 23 Paces To Baker Street (1956) and The Spiral Staircase (1945) with its deaf-mute heroine come to mind.

Also, would fans of Hepburn accept her in such a role? A cold, chilling thriller? Her husband, and producer of the movie, Mel Ferrer (himself a former film star whose fame was fading, though he stayed in the business as a successful producer) wasn’t quite sure it would work. But he convinced Audrey, who wasn’t nearly as confident as many believed her to be, to accept the part. But it worked really well. Director Terence Young was a great admirer of Hitchcock’s techniques and had already successful applied them to his James Bond movies Dr. No (1962), From Russia with Love (1963) and Thunderball as well as WWII thriller Triple Cross (1966). Together with Henry Mancini’s highly effective soundtrack, the movie creates an atmosphere of claustrophobic doom around the sympathetic heroine.

In a way, the film somewhat ended the career of Hepburn, as at the same time it started the career of Arkin – though he had some way to go before achieving the status he has nowadays. After this movie, the already rocky marriage between Hepburn and Ferrer came to a quick, unhappy ending. She stayed away from movies for the next eight years until she played opposite Sean Connery in Robin and Marian (1976). But none of her later movies would achieve the iconic status of the string of classics she did in the 1950’s and ’60’s.

She plays Suzy as a sympathetic, sweet woman who tries to be the best she can, even though she complains to her husband about whether she really has to be “the queen of the blind”. It’s nice to see a movie where a man isn’t the big saviour of the damsel in distress, but instead supports her in doing things by herself. Suzy is not without flaws; she insults and hurts the girl neighbour, though more by lashing out, regretted the next moment. It’s a more modern version of the classic Hepburn film persona. But Arkin leaves the strongest impression. His Roat comes off as evil incarnate. Wearing dark glasses throughout – you don’t see his eyes until the finale – and with the typical ‘bowl’ haircut of the time, he looks like an evil version of one of the Beatles! His cold, precise speaking style and efficient, smart handling of things give us the feeling that guy is a terrible wild-card.

The film was a great success. On a budget of $3 million, it made $17 million at the North American box office alone, and earned Audrey Hepburn her fifth and final Academy Award nomination. The plot may seem overly complicated, in how much trouble the gangsters go through for a few grams of drugs, knowing on what scale drug-dealing is executed today (I refer you to the James Bond movie Licence to Kill). But the film is extremely effective, delivering the kind of Hitchcockian experience that, at the end of the decade, Hitchcock himself wasn’t able to provide anymore, experiencing a creative trough at that time.

Arkin was watching the movie at the time with a studio executive and when the audience jumped out of their seats at the final moments of the film, when he came out of the shadows, the exec leaned over to him and said: “Do you realize that’s because of you? You scared them to death!” I think I rest my case there. Wait Until Dark makes a fine link between Psycho and Halloween, making Hepburn probably the most famous “final girl” of all!

Dir: Terence Young
Star: Audrey Hepburn, Alan Arkin, Richard Crenna, Efrem Zimbalist Jr.

Wrecker

★★
“Runs out of road.”

This falls victim to the Spielberg Effect. By that, I mean, that any movie directed by Steven Spielberg will inevitably become the yardstick by which future entries of that kind are judged – typically, unfavourably. Killer shark films will be compared to Jaws. Holocaust epics to Schindler’s List. And the genre of movies in which drivers are menaced by unseen truck drivers? Expect comparisons to Duel. And in this case, they are entirely warranted. I guess if you’ve never heard of Duel, this might just pass muster. But you would still be better off watching it, than this lame imitation, which has a nice car (a Mustang) and some lovely scenery (I’m guessing Canadian). That’s all it can offer though.

Gal pals Emily (Hutchinson) and Leslie (Whitburn) are on a road-trip, when they go off-route – never a good idea to take a road labelled “Devil’s Pass”, but that may just be me having seen too many horror movies. On the resulting stretch of road, entirely deserted except when conveniently necessary for the plot, they become increasingly concerned about the repeated presence of a tow-truck, pulling a car, which appears to be stalking them. After a number of alarming incidents, they are driven off the road by the truck, and Emily gets knocked unconscious. She awakens, to find Leslie gone. Driving to find help, she is stopped by a police-car, only for the officer to fall victim to the truck. But at least Emily now has a weapon, in the shape of the cop’s gun.

This kind of thing can work. Spielberg’s not the only one to prove it; The Hitcher (the original version) also occupied similar territory, with an almost supernatural figure menacing a driver, for no real reason. That succeeded, however, based on Rutger Hauer’s villainous charisma. There’s nothing like that here, with the villain entirely unseen; the closest we get to any personality are glimpses of Satanic regalia dangling in the truck. That’s not exactly a lot on which to hang your movie.

The main problem, however, is a script which is ludicrous when it isn’t being entirely contrived. The notion that a Mustang – which we are shown can reach over 120 mph – could not simply zoom away from a diesel tow-truck if necessary, is the most obvious, yet perhaps not the most idiotic element. The ways in which the two women, and indeed, their pursuer, behave, are the kind of actions which would only be carried out by characters in a horror movie. Anyone sensible would seek sanctuary in the nearest busy area, and stay there until help arrives. Our couple do visit such a spot, in the shape of a diner, only to leave it after lunch and resume their journey, because… because the film demands they do. If you’re not able to tolerate such things, you’ll have to hope that the Rockies and an American classic sports car provide enough entertainment. For the plot and characters aren’t going to offer much.

Dir: Micheal Bafaro
Star: Anna Hutchison, Drea Whitburn, Jennifer Koenig, Michael Dickson

Wonder Woman 1984

★★
“Left feeling quite Cheetah’d…”

Before COVID-19 hit, this was scheduled to be the year’s biggest action heroine movie. Originally slated for a June release, it was the sequel to a film which earned a well-deserved $800+ million worldwide, and a similar return seemed within reach. But its opening was first delayed, and then it was announced the movie would only get a limited release, coming out in North America on HBO’s streaming service, HBO Max. Difficult times. But the sad fact is, this feels more like a contractual cash-grab. Even with the same star and director, it seems sadly lacking in genuine, emotional heart.

There are quite a few other problems. Firstly, this is set in 1984, because… Well, there’s no real reason. At least Captain Marvel gave us a fight in a Blockbuster Video store. Here, the period flavour seems limited to one Frankie Goes to Hollywood song, randomly dropped in at a party. Otherwise, it could easily be set now. Another issue is the sheer length. This is 151 minutes: that’s only 10 minutes longer than its predecessor, but it feels a lot more. Part of this may be because after the opening, you then have to wait for over an hour, before there is any further significant action. While I’ve not pulled out a stopwatch, the ratio of that to talk overall just seems considerably worse.

Then we have the plot, which centres on a magic hunk of rock, the Dreamstone, that grants one wish to anyone who touches it. Diana Prince (Gadot) naturally wishes for the return of dead lover, Steve Trevor (Pine). Mousy work colleague Barbara Ann Minerva (Wiig) wishes to be like Prince, a process which ends up turning her into supervillainess Cheetah. And eventually gives her a tail, making her look like a refugee from Cats. At least dodgy oil-baron Maxwell Lord (Pascal, who amusingly also appeared in the much-derided 2011 Wonder Woman television pilot) reads the fine print, and uses the Dreamstone to try and take over the world. Of course, the old saying, “Be careful what you wish for” comes into play. You just KNOW Diana’s wish will have to be revoked, parting her from Steve once again. Which would be okay, if it hadn’t seemed like a cheat all along, robbing their separation of any emotional impact.

As is, Steve seems almost entirely superfluous here. His main contribution is a poorly-considered scene where this resurrected 1917 aviator is able to fly a modern jet with no trouble or instruction. This seems about as plausible as a 1917 accountant being able to sit down at a desk and immediately use QuickBooks, and that’s ignoring completely the fact that the Smithsonian would exhibit a plane that’s fully fuelled-up and ready for take-off Hey, he does somehow have a hand in teaching Wonder Woman to fly. Elsewhere, it doesn’t help that every time I saw Lord, I kept expecting Baby Yoda to show up, and Wiig is hardly convincing as a plain Jane. Maybe one day, Hollywood will realize that it takes more than just slapping a pair of glasses on an actress.

Gadot is still very good, but there just isn’t anything close to the sense of passion which she brought to the character in Wonder Woman. Here, saving the world seems like a day job, rather than something done out of a fierce, unbreakable conviction. The action sequences are merely alright. There’s some surprisingly poor CGI (even on a non-cinema screen), and they often seem short on physicality, with a couple of exceptions. A battle between WW and Cheetah in the White House is well-assembled, and there’s an opening sequence depicting a young Diana taking part in the Amazon Games. If it were a series, I’d be watching every week – my money would be on American Ninja Warrior star, Jessie Graff, who plays one of the competitors. That was nice.

However, even this falls short, both in emotional and technical aspects, of the iconic “No Man’s Land” sequence. And thus we reach the crux of the issue: in just about every way, it’s not as good as the previous movie. That was a genuinely groundbreaking effort, in which everyone involved seemed fully invested, and which deserves to rank among the best of the new wave of comic adaptations, be they Marvel or DC. This tastes more like heavily generic comic-book fare, with a story too heavily reliant on convenient happenstance, supporting characters that distract rather than support, and a resolution that is not much more than a 21st-century version of Wonder Woman demanding, “Clap your hands if you believe in fairies.”

Philosophically, I was intrigued by her explicitly stating at one point, “I hate guns.” I recently finished The Boys, with its slew of malevolent superheroes. In that world, firearms were one of the few things that could level the playing field and give “normal” humans a chance. Guns are, simply, a great equalizer, and hearing the super-powerful express blanket disdain for them is… interesting. Similarly, we were expected to believe Barbara Ann is simultaneously so plain nobody sees her, yet can barely take two steps without getting creeped on. Look, I expect Wonder Woman to be pro-feminist. But a degree of consistency is apparently too much. For when given a wish for anything, the two lead women want a) to be hot, and b) their boyfriend back? I am woman, hear me… whine?

There are some positives. If not exactly period appropriate, Hans Zimmer’s score is effective and elevates a number of scenes. And the film does, at least, leave the audience on a positive note with a really lovely mid-credit sequence. However, it’s also telling that those 60 seconds are likely more impactful – and, certainly, more emotional engaging – than the other 150 minutes combined. It has been a long time since I’ve seen a sequel, with the same director and star, that has fallen so far short. Maybe The Matrix: Reloaded? All told, you would be better off just watching the trailer. It certainly provides a greater jolt of eighties energy than the movie has any apparent interest in delivering.

Dir: Patty Jenkins
Star: Gail Gadot, Pedro Pascal, Kristen Wiig, Chris Pine

Warrior Queen of Jhansi

★★½
“Talks rather than walks.”

This version of the story of Rani Laxmibai, Queen of Jhansi, falls unfortunately between two stools. As a result, it seems likely to leave no-one satisfied, so its critical (3.5 on IMDb, 24% on Rotten Tomatoes) and commercial (less than $180K in North America) failure doesn’t come as much of a surprise. Western audiences were perhaps put off by the stereotypical portrayal of the colonialists – matters may not have been helped by a surprising, and I’d say quite harsh, R-rating. But, conversely, Indian audiences may well have been unimpressed by the Westernization of their beloved historical heroine. Most obviously – apart from the star being born in Manhattan – would be the hinted-at relationship between the Jhansi and good Briton, Major Robert Ellis (Lamb). This element seems to have been taken from Rani, a book by London-based author Jaishree Misra, whose publication triggered protests in her native land in 2008.

I can see both points. On multiple occasions, as the evil Brits of the East India Company did something else unpleasant, I leaned across to Chris to whisper, “I can only apologize.” Now, this would be tolerable in an adaptation aimed at a local audience e.g. Jhansi ki Rani. But if you’re aiming for an international audience, you need rather less of a sledgehammer approach. And while Ellis’s presence does balance things out a bit, this isn’t a story which needs any kind of romantic angle. Laxmibai is often considered as being India’s Joan of Arc; this feels a bit as if a movie decided to give Joan a boyfriend.

The rest of the film is not inaccurate, and hits the main points of her life. Her husband dies, the East India Company try to take over, and Laxmibai ends up being one leader of a rebellion against the British. Though here, the focus on her is diluted in a couple of ways. We have, as noted, the evil Brits seeking to dethrone her, led by Sir Hugh Rose (Everett). But there’s also a number of superfluous scenes, back at Balmoral Castle, in which Queen Victoria (Jodhi May) argues with Prime Minister Palmerston (Derek Jacobi). I’m guessing it’s trying to draw a parallel between the female rulers; beyond that, there really doesn’t seem much point to them.

I’d prefer to have seen more of Laxmibai becoming the warrior queen. She seems to spring, almost fully-formed, slicing and dicing the British forces, as they storm the fortified city of Jhansi. That, and a later scene where she wields a metal whip to great effect, are effective enough, and the production values are generally fine. But it’s altogether talky, on too many occasions preferring to tell the audience, instead of showing them. It fails to demonstrate quite why she was capable of becoming such a leader, with only occasional flashes showing the charisma, intelligence and diplomatic skills the real Laxmibai appears to have possessed. I appreciate the intent here; it’s a shame so much appears to have been lost in the execution.

Dir: Swati Bhise
Star: Devika Bhise, Ben Lamb, Rupert Everett, Nathaniel Parker

Warrior Nun

★★
“Nun-descript.”

There’s probably a decent movie in here. An interesting premise, occupying the nexus where religion and science cross, and some very effective hand-to-hand action sequences, would potentially have made for a decent 90 minutes of fun. The problem is, this actually runs for 10 x forty-minute episodes, and the result is stuffed so full of padding, that it could be used as a sofa. The nuns of the title are members of the Order of the Cruciform Sword, a group which has been fighting demonic entities for centuries. Chief among them is the bearer of the Halo, a divine relic which bestows its owner with great powers, including rapid healing and the ability to phase through solid objects.

When the current bearer of the Halo is killed in battle, it is embedded into another host. This is the corpse of Ava (Silva), a quadriplegic orphan who just happens to be in the wrong (or right, depending on your point of view) place at the wrong (or right, again) time. The Halo resurrects Ava and fixes her up, physically; but she’s certainly not mentally or spiritually prepared initially to become a nun and join the sisters of the OCS. However, her wants and needs are secondary to those of the Catholic Church, and there’s also high-tech company ARQ-Tech. Its CEO, Jillian Salvius. has built a trans-dimensional portal, using “divinium”, a mystical substance that can also be used to create weapons and armour for use by the OCS.

The above isn’t the problem. The issue is all the other stuff which gets added to it. For example, after her resurrection, Ava ends up becoming part of some kind of upper-class squatters’ movement, who jet-set around Europe, staying in unoccupied houses. I have no clue what the purpose of this was supposed to be. And, worse, neither does the show. The young, homeless hipsters basically vanish without trace in the second half, as if the writers realized it was a bad idea to begin with. Similarly, there’s an entire episode in which Ava and OCS colleague Shotgun Mary faff around the Spanish countryside for the duration. Really, after episode 1, you could skip the next five, while we go through the whole “reluctant heroine” thing we’ve seen all too often before.

We could have done with much less of all that, and more… Oh, I dunno: fighting demons, maybe? The action aspects generally seem underplayed, until a final mission where Ava and a small team break into the vaults beneath the Vatican, seeking a relic that… Well, let’s just say, doesn’t turn out to be quite what they expected. But until this gets under way, you might as well have it on in the background, and only pay attention when you hear the sound of fighting [here’s an example of the impressive quality I mean there]. And do not expect anything like a tidy ending either, the show instead delivering the most brutally abrupt of cliffhangers. But it probably says a lot that my reaction to it was mostly apathy.

Creator: Simon Barry
Star:  Alba Baptista, Toya Turner, Thekla Reuten, Lorena Andrea

Women of Mafia 2

★★★½
“Poles apart, once more.”

I was enormously surprised to see this one pop up on Netflix – it’s not as if the first movie is available on the platform (at least, not in the US), which you would expect to limit the market for the sequel. Perhaps it’s tied into the director’s recent, impressive feature, The Plagues of Breslau having been bought by the streaming service, and packaged as a Netflix original? This isn’t quite at the same level. Parts of it are awesome, alternating between hysterically funny and savagely brutal, in a way that feels like a Polish version of a Guy Ritchie film. But there are too many disparate stories here: I could fill the rest of the standard 500 words of length with the various synopses. And this leaves the good ones feeling a bit under-developed, while the less interesting ones – though never boring – come across more as a distraction.

To be honest, I don’t remember many of the details of its predecessor, but that shouldn’t impact viewers here too much. The main new character is actually Colombian. Aida (Cepeda) is involved in a deal for a ton of coke with the Poles under Daria (Dygant), that goes badly wrong. Aida ends up in Poland on a mission to find and punish those responsible. There’s also Stella (Grabowska), the mobster’s daughter who takes a dislike to Aida after she hooks up with her father. Tangentially, we have the glory of the scatterbrained Anna (Warnke), who starts off in prison, but ends up becoming a best-selling author, via a stint as a checkout girl. She’s the best character here, even though I can see how she might be highly irritating to some viewers. Finally, there’s Siekiera, who is in North Africa, and ends up getting radicalized, to become a suicide bomber back in Poland.

Did I miss anyone? Probably. As the above suggests, there are about five different films here, of wildly varying tone and content, all fighting for dominance. They don’t always mesh well, yet the style does help make it less jarring than it could be: it does feel like they all take part in the same universe. As the poster suggests, there’s no shortage of violence on view here, and much like Plagues, this is not for the squeamish. In particular, there is enthusiastic wielding of chainsaws, not leas by Aida. But there’s also a brutal interrogation sequence, which is capped off with a file being used on the victim’s teeth. You won’t be laughing at the end of that. And neither will he.

The promise at the end if that the Women of Mafia will return, and for one, I would not mind. However, it feels like Vega has so many stories he wants to tell, that the extended canvas offered by a television series might be a better way to give them the room they both need and deserve, in order to blossom. At least, give Anna her own show. That, I would certainly watch.

Dir: Patryk Vega
Star: Angie Cepeda, Agnieszka Dygant, Aleksandra Grabowska, Katarzyna Warnke

Women’s Justice, by Chrissy Wissler

Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆

In the 1880’s, the town of Butte, Montana is a mining boom-town – instead of gold, it’s mostly copper which fuels its economy. The wealth comes at a cost, as the huge amounts of acrid smoke belched from the smelters and plants turns day into night, along with creating perpetually “noxious, disgusting air.” Off the train and into this smog steps Cat, a woman with no shortage of a past. A former prostitute, but also a ranch-hand, her preferred outfit of blue jeans and six-shooter is most atypical for a woman of the times. Almost immediately, she is drawn into the mysterious and suspicious death on the street of another “fallen woman,” Norma. The apparent cover-up goes right up to “Copper Kings” such as Marcus Daly (a real tycoon from that time and place), and it quickly becomes clear that whoever was behind Norma’s demise, is none to happy to find Cat looking into the matter. To find the truth, she’s going to have to navigate her way through both ends of Butte society.

What stands out for me is Wissler’s incredibly verbose style, in which a whack on the shoulder with a plank merits several pages of descriptive prose. There’s one sequence, where Cat returns to the boarding-house where she’s staying, and discovers an unexpected dinner party in progress, when it feels like chapters elapse between the front-door and dining-room. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing – it’s not like she’s Alexandre Dumas, getting paid by the word. Indeed, it’s often interesting to get a deep dive into Cat’s thoughts and motivations, since she has a past that influences much of her behaviour; not least, a hinted-at violent incident involving her sister, Alice and her abusive husband. But there were times when I would have been happier for the plot to move forward at less of a glacial pace.

There’s no denying the author’s talents at generating the nightmarish world, with its poisonous air, and yawning gulf between the haves and the have-nots. Those like Norma can be pitched from the former category into the latter in a moment – and return is almost impossible. Instead, you can end up in the tunnels below the city streets, a virtual living hell for the lowest of the low. Cat’s history gives her an ability to empathize with the lower classes, while still capable of interacting with their “betters”, though there are times when her abilities seem to come close to telepathy, in terms of reading people. She could probably make a great living as a poker player. And despite the pistol on her hip, the action is limited – she never gets to draw it at all. Even the final face-off with Norma’s killer in those tunnels, entered from one of Butte’s grandest brothels, sees her largely defer to others in the name of justice.

There are some typos and missing words in the text, and I wonder if the word “bum” – as in rear – would genuinely have been used repeatedly by an 1880’s cowgirl. It seems rather too British: surely “ass” or “butt” (not to be confused with Butte!) would have been more likely? But despite flaws, this does remains an evocative depiction of a time and place which feels different from the usual Western fare. And it’s all the better for that.

Author: Chrissy Wissler
Publisher: Blue Cedar Publishing, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
1 of 2 in the Cowboy Cat series.